Tainted memories
by ResidentEvilChris
Summary: Sarah is a normal girl isn't she? She remembers her mother and father and all the happy times in her life. But when her mother is murdered, and then her aunt and boyfriend, she suspects her father. What is Sarah to do when she realizes her memories maybe tainted? That what she remembers may be wrong? Did her father really killer her loved ones or is she crazy? This is not a remake


"You killed her!" I screamed as I tackle the person in front of me, my father. I hate the weakness in my voice but when I feel his throat beneath my hands I don't let go. Images of a happy family flash in my head. My family. My mother, father and me.

I vaguely remember my first day of school. I was five and my mother cried as she sent me off to the bus. My father only gave me a stiff hug.

I remember my seventh birthday party. It was Scooby doo themed, because even at seven I refused to indulge my mother and play with dolls and act like a normal girl.

I remember going to a festival when I was 10. I was too young to ride the rides so my mother let me play the carnival games instead. I won a giant teddy bear at the ring toss. As I walked from game to game my mother and father followed behind, holding hands and occasionally stealing a kiss from each other. Back then I thought it was gross but as I got older I learned it was how adults showed affection. I tried not to think about the few kisses I had stolen from a boy down the street. Thanks to my father, I will never see him again. He was gone. And so were my aunt and my mother.

I remember when I was 12 I had the lead part in Romeo and Juliet. My mother brought me a bouquet of roses and my father offered me a hard pat on the back.

I remember when I was 15 I was accepted into Greeley's art school. I was so excited; my mother took me out for ice cream. I ordered a banana split for me and my mother to share and my father ordered water and waited for us in the car.

I remember when I 16 I got lead in Grease. Playing Sandy wasn't my ideal role but it would look good on my transcript, my mother told me. The day of the play I walked outside of the house and in the drive way waiting for me was a bright yellow, hummer. I drove my new truck to school and later that day, I drove my mom to the school where the play was. My father didn't ride with us, he took his car.

I remember when I was 18 I got my acceptance letter to Hanley school of the arts and I had never been so excited. My mother took me out to a fancy restaurant. My mother gave me a big hug and offered to help me pack and my father gave me an application to law school.

I remember dropping out of Greeley's. Two months after I had left for college, my mother died. I remember coming home to take care of my father only to learn that my father didn't need help from me. He was seeing a therapist who helped him to get over my mother. It was a month before I learned that her way of helping him wasn't so professional and involved lingerie.

Tears sprang from the corner of my eyes as I imagined how my father killed them all. First my mother, then my aunt and then later Kyle, the boy down the street whom I was involved with. Killing my mother was for insurance. Killing my aunt was a cover up. Killing Kyle was evil.

My father tried to push me off from him but I kept all my weight on him. He made loud chocking noises that I was sure anyone within a mile could hear. The blood rushed to my head and my hands tightened even more.

I felt myself being pulled off my father and I struggled, kicking, scratching, and biting any body part I could. I screamed as loud as I could and I was dropped roughly to the ground. "He killed her!" I screamed. "He killed her, he killed her, he killed her!" I kept repeating it over and over again and my voice grew hoarse from all the crying and screaming.

Two arms grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at the person in front of me. It was my father's therapist. "Sarah what happened? Who killed who?" I looked into her eyes and could see the fear. Of me? She was scared of me. "My father. He killed them. He killed my mother" I was crying again.

She looked at me now worried. "It's true!" I insisted. "I know he did it" She tried to calm me down as I started to hyperventilate. "Sarah, sweetie. Your dad didn't kill your mother. She died in labor with you" My eyes snapped up and I looked at her accusingly. "Your lying!" I didn't get to see her response because she was crouched by my father crying. Her head was on his chest. I looked at his dead body and tried to feel remorse. I couldn't.

My hands were sweaty and I tried to wipe them off on my jeans, now ripped and filthy. But it wasn't sweat on my hands. It was blood.

My head hurt as new memories washed over me.

My father sending me off to school for the first time. He cried and hugged me, sending me off with a Scooby doo lunch box.

I remember the fits that started when I was 6. I would cry hysterically and beg for my mother. I remember being told that she was in a place called heaven. I didn't understand until I got older.

But as I got older, the fits grew worse. I didn't accept the fact that my mother was dead and made up my own reality where she was alive. It was filled with festivals, ice cream, art schools and plays.

I remember when I was 16 I went to my aunt's for the summer. We were in her front yard as a fit came on. She tried to calm me down but I was so hysterical I couldn't understand her. She tried to drag me into the house and I pushed her. I remember her falling and hitting her head. I remember picking up a rock and bashing her head in repeatedly.

I remember my father and the police coming. I remember being escorted to a mental hospital. My father said it was for my own good. I remember being locked away in a room by myself. I remember being released when I was 18. I went home with my dad. I caught the eye of a boy down the street. Everything was normal. Until I found out about her. The therapist. My father had met her while shopping and the two hit it off. The day after my father told me about her I began to dream about my mother. Then the fits came back. My father didn't want to send me away again and acted like nothing was wrong.

I remember being in the pool alone one night. Kyle, the boy down the street jumped in scaring me. I remember when our lips touched I was scared at first but enjoyed it. But then my heart began to race and another fit came on. I remember holding his head under water until he stopped fighting.

My legs collapsed as I heard sirens approaching. I didn't try to get the blood off my hands. Blood stains. I was stained. It was all over my body. It would never go away. I killed my mother, my aunt, my boyfriend and my father and there was nothing I could do about it.

A/N- So if you couldn't follow that, basically the first set of memories were not real. She is mental and was living in some fake reality where her mom was alive and her father killed her and her aunt and boyfriend. But then at the end she remembers the truth and remembers that she was the one that murdered them.


End file.
